Begs the question as to why 900 people have left Britain – a rich, stable, free country – to join a band of medieval fundamentalists. What could such a group possibly offer them that Britain can’t? Not “our NHS”, that’s for sure.
Most of us, when we think of Isil, think of beheadings, slaves and bombs. But the brutal displays of power and commando propaganda are just part of the picture. The violence might be an attraction to some angry souls, but what actually plays a bigger part in the terrorist group’s international appeal, especially to the young, is its promise of friendship, utopia and simplicity. One de-radicalisation specialist described it as offering recruits a chance to live in “Islamic Disneyland”.
The Isil videos on line portray an orderly, peaceful and family-oriented life. There are funfairs, well-behaved children, fighters petting stray cats, markets where good-natured but firm religious police prevent selling at prayer times and force women to wear gloves while washing fish. For the most part, recruiters don’t promise a luxurious existence. They promise something more tantalising: justice and belonging.
“The Caliphate fairly divides money among all the people, migrant and none migrant, so that there is no difference between Arabs and Persians, blacks or whites,” reads one document translated by the Quilliam Foundation. Isil’s promise of equality and inclusion (for Muslims only, of course) runs through all its writings. Its caliphate, it likes to claim, was a place without corruption, where the courts operated fairly and everyone had their role. The role of a woman might be a sedentary life of motherhood, but it was ordained by God.
This is what Ms Begum meant when she told The Times that her aspirations had been fulfilled: “It was like a normal life, like the life that they show in the propaganda videos.”
The only entry requirement was to “be a Muslim”.